


One Hour

by Jehanne_d_Arc



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: A bit of swearing from Alec Lightwood, Alecissoinlove, Bossy Alec Lightwood, Boys In Love, Busy Magnus, But then they catch a break, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Fluff, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, Good Parabatai Jace Wayland, I would be too, ISHIPTHISSOHARD, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Magnusneedslove, Malec, Massage, My puppies are domestic as shit, Parabataisavestheday, Protective Alec Lightwood, Relationship Goals, Short & Sweet, Sweet, boys being dorks, can't catch a break, tiredMagnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jehanne_d_Arc/pseuds/Jehanne_d_Arc
Summary: Alec was setting a goal: one hour. One hour of uninterrepted, quality time with just Alec and the stunningly beautiful man he was crazy about. Surely one hour could be a manageable goal.-Or-That one stressed/comfort fic where Alec gets bossy and Magnus gets a massage.





	One Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notcrypticbutcoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrypticbutcoy/gifts).



> This was written to amuse me during an extra week without my go-to Malec fic (A Fall Without Wings), and was inspired by the beautiful slow burn that only Vulturemonem could manage so beautifully. I am not a patient person. I don't burn slow. I hug people right here, right now. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Alec was setting a goal: one hour.

Alec had always been goal-oriented. He tended to like knowing where he was aiming - not only in archery, but in every undertaking. He liked to have a game-plan, but even if he hadn't worked out how to achieve the ends he wanted, he had a strong compulsion (not always shared by his parabatai) to know what his end-goal was, and what the next milestone would be. He felt that he was very good at goal-setting, and was able to compromise, or lower the goal to make it more readily obtainable. He could start small. He could pick his battles. One hour seemed like not a great deal to ask. One hour of uninterrepted, quality time with just Alec and the stunningly beautiful man he was crazy about. Surely one hour could be a manageable goal.

However...

In the past three days, Alec's every attempt to make some time to be alone with Magnus had resulted in failure. First there had been the attempted dinner date - a quiet affair that had been rescheduled when a greater demon ate a car on 18th st.

Then the would-be movie night. They had gotten as far as deciding that science-fiction - though a bit unpredictable - was the only genre that didn't hit too close to home for either of them to be taken seriously (this had proved to be the case with history for Magnus, adventure for Alec, and fantasy for both of them), only for Alec to get a call from Izzy before they'd even ruled out starwars.

After that the two had lost their quiet evening at the park when a hostage situation surfaced four minutes before their designated meeting time. This resulted in them colliding, babbling out apologies, and Magnus' "nevermind that - you go get the children," tumbling out at the same time as Alec's "I'll be fine, just close the portal!" Then the two of them were racing past each other, and getting back to the business of saving lives and protecting the world.

The most recent attempt had been nipped in the bud when, at the end of a battle, Alec pulled out his phone to call Magnus, only to watch it get splattered with viscous, black ooze - something Jace was never really sorry for his part in.

This might all have been overcome if a high warlock's job was comprised of filing one's nails and eating chocolates. However, if Alec had felt that the world never slowed down for a shadowhunter, he had never been a high-ranking warlock.

Alec and Magnus had been sitting on the couch, with Magnus stroking Alec's hair, and Alec shyly getting up the nerve to nibble Magnus' ear. He saw the look on Magnus' face a split second before the door burst open, and was already leaned back, his arms folded, and a small scowl on his face when Clary's voice called "Magnus". Magnus just rolled his eyes, and gave a longing up and down glance to Alec's lanky form before rising and conjuring tea.

Next, a coffee date had been rescheduled via phone when Magnus found himself "up to my ass in delusional vampires, with a shorter life expectancy than Taylor Swift's next relationship". Magnus had never explained that one, but Raphael had been all right, and Alec had used five minutes of his precious life googling Taylor Swift. (He regretted the decision.)

There was a brief romantic moment after surviving a den of hell-hounds, when the two had been staring deeply into each other's eyes, trying to explain in hushed tones how lost each would have been without the other. The soft clearing of a throat had alerted them to the seelie knight, politely (if apathetically) perched at the edge of the clearing. "Warlock Bane," he had said. "Your presence is requested." And that was that.

After that, there had been a moment of flaring hormones and heavy breathing that had quickly dissipated when a potion left too long unattended had exploded in the kitchen, leaving Magnus cursing in at least six languages Alec had never heard. Somehow the mood was never quite restored.

At least twice Magnus had to call and cancel when work moved more slowly than he thought it would, or when he had been unexpctedly called upon to lend a hand in a life or death emergency.

Perhaps most frustrating to Alec (and most amusing, briefly, to his boyfriend) was the rare moment of quiet cocktails in Magnus' apartment. Music had been playing somewhere (Alec wasn't asking), and the night outside was full of distant traffic. The city seemed far away, and the warm, late summer breeze was wafting in from the balcony. Magnus and Alec had been dancing - a lazy, ineffectual shuffle, which suited Alec just fine, and showed off his non-existant dance-skills to their best advantage. As the twilight deepened in the distance, and their drinks were steadily forgotten, the two shifted ever closer, their eyes flickering up and down, as lazy gazes carressed smiling lips.

Their mouths hadn't even touched before the door burst open, and Izzy and Simon came tumbling through it. "OH FOR THE LOVE OF-" Alec had pulled away so hard that Magnus' chilly cocktail had splashed in emerald waves down the back of Alec's shirt. "Do you people just never knock? Fuckin' shadowhunters, with their fuckin' God-complexes! WHEN DO YOU PEOPLE EVEN SLEEP?" Magnus had laughed until he cried, while Izzy tried to reason with her brother, and explain the severity of the situation. After a solid three minutes of "I'm really sorry... and you know I ship all this-" ("That's me, too," Simon had added. "I ship you. I call it Malec..."), Alec had just walked away to go change shirts, and by the time he saw Magnus again the cocktails were gone, it was nearly time for breakfast, and the warlock had stopped laughing (finally).

The only real upside to that whole evening (in Alec's opinion) was Magnus' response to seeing Alec in his shirt. It didn't fit Alec terribly well when he tried buttoning it, so he didn't bother. Magnus' face had been incredible.

It was now 8:26 on Thursday night, and Magnus was standing in the kitchen, scowling at the stove, and gesticulating wildly with his free hand. Alec sighed as he walked in; how sad to be preempted by a cellphone.

"No I will not! And when you want to contact me, use a fire message and not my personal phone. I have no interest in being dragged kicking and screaming into shadowhunter politics that the clave should long ago have-" A look of mute frustration flashed across Magnus' face; if the week had been any less draining, Alec felt certain the warlock's magic would have boiled over, causing small objects to shatter all across the room. "My personal life," Magnus bit out in irritation, "is in no way related t-"

As the voice on the other line tried to speak over Magnus, Alec finally caught enough of the cadences to recognize the speaker. He took the phone from Magnus' hand, lifting one finger in answer to Magnus' shocked expression. To the phone he simply barked "Raj, fuck yourself. If you want proper chanel results, you'll have to go through proper channels." He hung up the phone, and tossed it on the kitchen counter, before looking back to Magnus.

A strange series of facial expressions were playing on the warlock's features. "You just..." Magnus finally offered, before trailing off with a non-descript gesture.

Alec shrugged. "I'll catch hell for it tomorrow," he said, easily. He sounded no more particularly worried now, than he had sounded particularly angry when he spoke to Raj. Though his words spoke of danger, his attitude was perfectly relaxed, and Magnus found it hard to worry when even Alec-king-of-the-worst-case-scenario-Lightwood(all hail) seemed utterly at ease.

A quick, tired grin swept Magnus' face. "Well, wasn't that dashing," he said, graciously. Alec rolled his eyes and swept a clumsy bow. He felt foolish, but Magnus' surprised giggle (the man might deny it, but Alec knew what he had heard) was by itself enough to make the whole evening worthwhile.

"I just got tired," Alec managed (albeit, self-consciously), "of the way the whole world sort of... hounds you." He wasn't sure if that made sense; played it back once or twice in his mind; yeah, it sort of did.

"Being a shadowhunter's not exactly easy either." Magnus' tone was gentle, but Alec just shrugged one shoulder, unimpressed.

"Eh," he said, eloquently. "I'm used to it."

Magnus rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "As am I, Alexander." He sounded as though he were trying to break some life truth to a small child. "I've been around a long, long time." His fingers dug into his neck, and he waved the other hand, theatrically. "There will always be someone who wants something from me." He laughed. "If not a shadowhunter, then some m-"

Alec strode purposefully past him, grabbed a kitchen chair, and plunked it unceremoniously down between them. "Sit."

Magnus blinked at him a moment. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking care of you." Alec's tone was firm, and laced with irritation. "So sit."

"Alexander-"

"Sit," he said, flatly, "your ass down."

Magnus' eyebows rose, and his gaze raked Alec up and down with an intentional shiver, and a sinfully flirtatious "ooh..."

Attempting to ignore the determinedly scandalized face his boyfriend was giving him, Alec licked his lips. "You've taken care of everybody else," he said, firmly. "My turn now." He nudged the chair forwards. "Sit down."

Something softened in Magnus' gaze, and he gestured widely, pretending to roll his eyes (and the rest of his head while he was at it). "Oh all right," he sighed. "Far be it from me to interrupt a beautiful man who orders me around." He turned around, and took a seat as Alec instructed.

"Oil." Alec's tone was not one that expected contradiction, as was made obvious by the pause before he remembered to tack on "... Please."

Magnus made some sort of face that Alec couldn't see - betrayed by the dramatic, angst-ridden sigh, and the movements of his head - but snapped his fingers. "Conjured," he announced, as though Alec might be blind, deaf, and stupid. He held out the small glass bottle, and Alec took it.

On uncorking the bottle he found it to be scented - a thing he had guessed, by reason of Magnus. A musky, slightly alcoholic scent rose up - not completely floral, not quite bourbon, and not quite pepper, but bearing a slight hint of all three. Sort of an amber scent. Alec felt sure that the oil itself was sandalwood, and maybe almond oil... what all the perfume was, he couldn't begin to guess. He chose to trust that it would not have any properties that he was unaware of, and poured some into his palm.

"You might wanna... move your shirt..." Alec mumbled, glancing at the burgundy and silver cross-thread.

A finger snap. The shirt was gone. Alec felt, irrationally, that the world had just become less fair. "Better?"

"Uhh..." He rubbed his hands together. "Ugh, ahh... uh, y-yes." Magnus' sudden expanse of exposed back was distracting to the point of danger. Only years of instict kept him from knocking the glass bottle to the floor.

Magnus' shoulders looked smug.

Suddenly remembering his mission, Alec shook his head a little. "Yeah. Thats... yeah." He put his hands on Magnus' neck and rubbed his fingers gently into-

How someone could take out bones, muscles, and tendons, and replace them with multiple stainless steel rods, Alec had no idea. Yet, this was what it felt like when he touched the warlock's neck. The base of his skull felt covered in knots, and the long stretch of honey-colored skin between his ears and shoulders was stiff and unyielding.

"What did you do?" Alec hadn't meant to sound accusatory or disgusted, though he felt sure that he had come out sounding both.

Magnus half turned, his face both amused and disbelieving. "What?" His tone was laughing, and his mildly befuddled headshake caused Alec to shake his head as well.

"It's like frickin'... marble... I can't-" he shook his head. "You need to nap more."

Magnus threw his head back, laughing til tears sparkled in the creases at the corners of his eyes. "I'll make a note," he managed, nodding.

"I'm- you-" Alec was grinning, "you better." He shook his head a bit. "This is... This is... This is gordian."

Magnus threw a glance over his shoulder. "Please don't solve it the way the other Alexander-"

Alec gave him a very pointed look, and poured more oil onto his fingers. Magnus swallowed, and Alec didn't miss it. Carefully, he rubbed the wood and spice scented mixture into Magnus' skin, working to make his shoulders smooth and slick before trying to untie the knots underneath. "This smells nice," he commented eventually.

Magnus let out a long, contented breath through his nose, as though he had breathed in to speak, and found himself sighing instead. After a moment he managed, "I've always liked it. It was an accidental invention of my own." He looked thoughtful and laughed. "I made a potion... incorrectly..." he shook his head, dimples gathered at the corners of his mouth. "I knew it wouldn't work, but it still smelled fantastic. After removing the powdered hen's teeth, and the incantations: et voila!"

Alec grinned, biting his lip. "Somehow," he mumbled, shaking his head, "I never imagined there was a time when you weren't..."

Magnus tilted his head to peer at him, but Alec took the warlock's head in his hands and turned it to be facing forward once again. "Hmm?" Magnus questioned with an exasperated chortle.

"I don't know..." Alec pressed the heel of his hand gently into the base of Magnus' neck. "I guess... I guess I assumed that you had always been good at this stuff." His own voice sounded shy in his ears, though he couldn't imagine why. The image of Magnus being young and inexperienced in any area seemed a bit like wishful thinking. All of the warlock's flaws seemed so ancient, and beautiful - nothing clumsy or inept had ever crossed Alec's mind.

"Oh sweet Lord, no." Magnus' tone was conversational, but the words were thrown out so quickly that Alec was startled by their adamance. "No," he repeated, a touch slower. "There... There was a lengthy learning period." He laughed, his shoulders shaking under Alec's touch. Alec took the apparent distraction to slowly start applying pressure to the taught muscles of Magnus' neck. "There were some interesting mishaps along the way let-" he broke off with a soft moan, before managing, "...let me tell you..." Magnus shook his head, but fought to continue his thoughts through the insidious attention. "I remember one time in particular... Oh, Ragnor swore he hated me..." The words faltered, and Magnus' shoulders tensed for a moment in a way that Alec doubted he could fix. Alec's hands stilled.

"Magnus..."

One of the warlock's hands crept up, and settled on Alec's. "It's ok..." He nodded his head slowly. "I-" He smiled as Alec's fingers closed around his. "I want to know that I feel happy when I hear that name." He let go Alec's fingers after a moment. "I'm sorry you didn't know him. You would have despised each other."

Alec opened and closed his mouth for a moment, before (for once, he thought) finding the right thing to say. "Kind of like you two? When you made whatever mess you did?"

"Oh, I was not responsible for that!" Magnus' tone was indignant, as though Alec had any idea, yet, what the story was about. "It was his handwriting," Magnus clarified, "that was the problem. He never admitted it, but I think he misspelled the last ingredient on purpose. Who doesn't know how to spell amchur powder? And that from a bibliophile!"

Alec let the words wash over him as he dug his hands slowly deeper into the knotted muscles of his boyfriend's shoulders. As the story continued - and then another story, and another - he let his hands become more forceful, his grip firmer. Magnus prattled about Paris, Madrid, and London; laughed about friends, enemies, and innocent by-standers; lamented potions, incantations, and poorly translated manuscripts. Minutes ticked by, and Magnus' shoulders became more malleable, his skin softer, and a little pink. The sweet smell of the oil permeated the kitchen air, clinging to Alec's skin in a way he new would have him smelling of sandalwood, gardenia, amber, and cayenne pepper for days. The barking groans that had punctuated Magnus' stories slowly melted into soft, low moans, that purred almost constantly through his narrative. The slight roughness in his tone, and the smoothness of his skin were causing a smoldering, amber heat to flow into Alec's lower stomach. Each time Magnus' breath caught, so did Alec's.

When, inevitably, the phone finally rang again, Alec checked the clock. 9:23 ticked over to 9:24. They had gotten to fifty-eight minutes. Alec sighed. It was closer than he'd honestly expected.

Magnus stopped mid-word, his description of Catarina finding out what he had done to her cinnamon supply dying on his tongue. As his words faded, so did his smile, and he turned to watch Alec. It took the shadowhunter a split second to realize that the phone that was ringing was his own. Upon pulling the offending object from his pocket, Alec saw the name on the caller I.D.

He put the phone to his ear. "What do you want, Raj?"

"Your parabatai," Raj intoned exasperatedly, "Has told me to inform you that we have handled the situation without your warlock boyfriend." He sounded like this information was costing him his soul, and he would rather have had his teeth pulled by the circle while a demon charred his hair off. "Jace was adamant that I call."

There was a sound as the phone was - judging by the scuffling noise - snatched out of Raj's hands, and Jace's voice poured a little too loudly out of the speakers. "Alec? We've got it covered. Everything, all of it. (As if I couldn't handle a few self-righteous old crones-)" Alec caught his breath, a grin blossoming across his face at the arrogance in Jace's tone. "All that to say: we've got things covered here, so you go get the girl." There was a sound as though he made to hang up the phone, caught himself, and brought it back up to his mouth to clarify, "or, in this case, you know, the warlock." The line went dead.

Alec looked up. It was 9:25.

"Everything all right?" Magnus eyes were soft, and a little worried, but the smile on his face said that he couldn't fear too much when his angel was smiling like this.

Alec shook his head, grinning. "That was..." He didn't know where to start. "Just Jace. Telling me it's fine." He gave Magnus a conspiratorial nod. "Turns out the institute can live without us for an hour."

Caricatured shock crossed Magnus face. "Can they?" He looked down as though reconsidering a foundational premise his theology.

"So..." Alec glanced him up and down.

Magnus raised his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling, and reached a hand out towards Alec. Alec took it without question.

Magnus grabbed the bottle with his free hand, and lead the way to the bedroom.

"What are you doing," Alec asked as the door closed behind them. He was trying to sound irritated, though he knew he wouldn't manage.

"I'm taking the advice of a friend." Magnus toed off his shoes, and divested Alec of his leather jacket.

"A friend, hm?"

"Oh, yes," Magnus confided. He put an arm around Alexander's waist. "Someone I trust with my life." He smiled, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim room - amber, like the scent of oil; amber like the love and lust in Alec's gut. Magnus put his hand on Alec's cheek, and Alec leaned into his touch. "Someone beautiful."

Alec licked his lips, and watched as Magnus' gaze followed the movement. His hands were flat on Magnus' broad, soft shoulders, the bare skin still burning with heat and spicy oil. "What, uh..." He lost his words for a moment, gazing at the gleaming eyes that stared, unafraid, out of the darkness. "What did your friend say?" He felt Magnus 'hmm' against him, the movement of his bare chest against Alec's clothed one a warm, familiar pressure. "Did he give you good advice?"

Magnus nodded. "He told me I needed to nap more." Magnus pressed the small glass bottle into Alec's hand.

Alec looked into his eyes, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "A sex nap," he asked, in confidential tones.

Magnus' eyes blazed, his fingers rubbing circles on Alec's neck. Dimples appeared followed by a lop-sided smile. "I've got time if you do."


End file.
